The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,62
had been. He wasn't sure what would come of it, but there was no doubt in his mind, he liked her.
Chapter 9
Bill called her again later that week, and invited her to the theater this time. They drove to the city, and had dinner there, and afterwards he came in for a glass of wine, and they talked for a while, about the theater, and books, and she told him about a difficult case she was working on, involving a custody suit and a child she suspected was being abused. She had reported the parents to child protective services, and they had discovered she was right. In some ways, it presented a moral dilemma for her, and she wished that she could represent the child and not the parents.
“Why can't you?” he asked matter-of-factly. It seemed so simple to him, but for her it wasn't.
“It's a little more complicated than that. I'd have to be appointed by the court to represent the child, and I wasn't. I'm considered tainted because I represent the father. And they're right. It would be a conflict of interest for me to represent the child, although I'd much prefer it to representing her father.”
“I had a case like that, a kid in the trauma unit who they claimed had been beaten up by a neighbor. They wanted to bring charges against him and they told a very convincing story. I was suitably outraged. Turns out the father was beating the child, and he had brain-damaged her by the time she got to me. There wasn't a hell of a lot we could do about it. They took the child away from them, once she got out of the hospital, but she begged the judge to go back to them. I was afraid the father would kill her. The judge sent her to foster care for a few months, but eventually the child went back to her parents.”
“And then what happened?” He had piqued her interest.
“I don't know. I lost track of them, which seemed too bad. My work is so immediate and so acute, once people get well, I lose them. It's the nature of the beast in trauma and emergency. You do what you can in the immediacy of the moment, and then they fade out of your lives.”
“Don't you miss having a long-term relationship with your patients?”
“Not really. I think that's part of what I like about it. I don't have to worry about solving problems that aren't really mine to solve, or can't be. This way it's much simpler.” He was clearly someone who didn't want long-term relationships of any kind. But she liked him in spite of it. And every now and then, when he said things like that, she felt sorry for him. His life, and philosophies, were everything hers weren't. Everything about her life was long-term and deeply involved. There were clients who stayed in touch with her for years after their divorces. It was just a difference in style, and clearly, she and Bill Webster were very different. But it was equally clear that they liked each other.
It was late again when he left that night. He sat and talked to her till nearly one o'clock, and he was sorry when he left that he couldn't stay longer to talk to her. But they both had to get up early the next day. She had to go to court, and he was due on duty at the trauma unit at seven in the morning.
And Peter had a sly look in his eye when he asked her at breakfast the next day if he'd won his bet.
“No, you lost this time,” she smiled, and laughed.
“You mean he didn't kiss you, Mom?” Peter looked disappointed and Megan made a face of utter outrage.
“You're disgusting,” she accused him. “Whose side are you on?”
“Mom's,” he said clearly, and then he turned back to his mother. “Would you tell the truth if he did, or would you lie just to win the ten bucks?” He loved teasing her, and she laughed as she made them all pancakes.
“Peter, how insulting! I have more integrity than to lie to my own flesh and blood to win a bet.” She handed him a plate of pancakes and poured syrup on it.
“I think you're lying, Mom,” Peter accused her.
“I'm not. I told you, we're just friends, and I like it like that.”
“Keep it that way, Mom,” Rachel added. Another country heard from. Liz looked at her youngest